


Taking the Dare

by azurecuisine



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Romance, Romantic Fluff, Wordcount: 5.000-10.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-04
Updated: 2011-03-04
Packaged: 2017-12-04 11:19:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/710221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azurecuisine/pseuds/azurecuisine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He really should know better than to trust anything created by the twins.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **A/N:**   Things you should know… hmm.  Set in the seventh year, choosing to write as if Voldemort was defeated over the summer.
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling, not me.  No money being made here.

_How’d I get into this?  Why don’t I ever remember that Fred and George versions of games are a bad idea?_   Harry pushed his eggs around on his plate.  His head ached, his skin was crawling, and Seamus hadn’t been awake to hand out hangover potions that morning.  The eggs were making him nauseous.  Harry pushed the plate away with a groan. 

He looked up and down the table.  Ron looked sicker than Harry felt— _good, he’s the one who brought the firewhiskey—_ and Neville looked about ready to pass out in his porridge.  Dean hadn’t been in the Great Hall when Harry stumbled down to breakfast, which seemed strange, since he hadn’t been in his bed or the common room.  Hermione was giving them her Prefect glare of disapproval, when she deigned to look at them at all.  The first-years were entirely too cheerful… _If I were in Slytherin, I’d hex them all._

It wasn’t really that he minded the hangover.  He’d earned it, and it had been fun.  It was just… He’d agreed to the game, and then Seamus brought out a garish green and teal box, covered in flashing text.  “Truth or Dare?”it said, then flashed to a new phrase.  “How honest are your friends?  How daring can you be?  Find out—or suffer the consequences!”  

They’d laughed, and Seamus said he’d only gotten it because Fred and George wanted a “field test.”  And it didn’t seem so bad—it was just a charmed crystal globe, and came with a guarantee that no answer or action would be forced.  They’d even tested it first, lying in response to a question and then howling with laughter when Ron turned bright purple with the word “liar” scrawled in red across his face.  The effect disappeared after Ron admitted that yes, he’d slept with Hermione.  And when Dean refused to accept a dare, he said it just felt like ants crawling over his skin and a buzzing in his head until he leaned over and pecked Harry on the lips.  There was even a canceling charm, clearly marked and labeled “In Case of Emergency.” 

Harry laughed bitterly, and immediately regretted it as his head exploded with even more pain.  _Like that stupid charm does me any good now.  Stupid, stupid, stupid…_

If they hadn’t lost that spell, everything would have been fine.  The second Ron had given him the dare, he’d paled and taken it back, but Harry’s skin had already started to prickle.  Dean had just collapsed laughing, Seamus had stared at Ron (eyes not quite focusing), and Neville had lunged for the box, mumbling about “don’t worry, Harry, I’ll fix this.”  Which would have been great, really, but drunken Neville was even clumsier, and he’d knocked the box over, spilling the contents into the fireplace.  And Harry had watched his salvation turn to ash. 

 _I just have to hold out for a couple days.  Just a couple days of torture._  

Of course they’d immediately written a note to Fred, explaining what had happened.  And in the morning, when Harry and Ron couldn’t figure out what they’d written, they’d sent a follow-up to George with Hedwig.  Hopefully, receiving two letters almost at the same time would get the twins to actually read it, and answer quickly.  It wasn’t unusual for them to leave letters from their brother unanswered for weeks… 

 _They’ll answer, they have to answer… I’m their primary investor!  They_ have _to tell us how to undo this!_

“Harry…” 

Harry looked up at Ron’s whimper.  _I’m not talking to him… How could he make_ that _dare, even as a joke?_   

“Harry, I’m _sorry…_ I wasn’t thinking… Please?  Say something?” 

 _On the other hand, they are_ his _brothers.  They might send the charm to him._   Harry sighed.  _And he really didn’t mean it._  

“It’s okay, Ron,” he managed to grit out.  “My head’s just aching, and the crawling skin thing is _really_ annoying at this point.  Couldn’t you have dared me to steal something from Snape, if you wanted me dead so bad?” 

Hermione was edging towards them, trying not to look curious.  Harry tried not to notice, tried to keep his focus on talking to Ron.  Which was hard enough, with the bees in his head and the ants on his skin and… 

“Maybe I should just do it,” he mused. 

Ron’s face went white, making his freckles stand out even more.  “You can’t, Harry, you just… _can’t.”_  

“He can’t _what?”_

 _Huh.  Guess finding out what happened is more important than disapproving.  Should ask what_ she _thinks I should do… Wait, I know what she’ll say.  “Oh,_ Harry, _how could you be so irresponsible?  And_ Ron, _why would you think_ anything _your brothers sent was a good idea?”_

 _And then we’ll have to tell her about the drinking, and she’ll get even_ worse. _And Ron will be in disgrace, and I’ll feel worse than I do, and I’ll still be about to jump out of my skin because of this damn_ itch! 

“Gah!  All right, I give!”  Ron and Hermione looked at him in surprise.  “We got pissed, and tried a prototype of a game Fred and George sent, and _yes_ it was stupid and _no_ we shouldn’t have been drinking and _yes_ Ron’s an idiot but that doesn’t change the fact that if I don’t snog Malfoy I’m going to go fucking insane so could you stop lecturing and just _help_ me?” 

His friends stared at him, looking vaguely frightened.  Finally, Hermione put her hand hesitantly on Harry’s arm.  

“Er… I haven’t lectured… I mean, I _knew_ you were drinking last night, but what’s this about Fred and George and of course I’ll help you, but… why do you have to snog Malfoy?  I didn’t even think you liked him.” 

 _Oh… Great, this is just great.  I’m giving_ myself _Hermione lectures now._   Harry felt his composure slip completely away as Ron started to explain the previous night to Hermione.  The two kept glancing over at him with worried expressions, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.  He just stared over at the Slytherin table, where a blond boy was smirking at his friends, and wondered if it would really be so bad to give in to the buzzing need in his head.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Our Story So Far:** During a night of drunken fun, Harry got hit with a magical dare—he must snog Malfoy. Unfortunately, the counterspell was lost in a tragic Neville-related accident! How will he ever survive? (insert dramatic music here)

Two days later, Harry was practically crawling up the walls.  He was tired of fighting against the urge to shove Draco— _dammit,_ Malfoy—up against the closest wall, tired of how he shivered whenever _Malfoy_ was close, tired of imagining how silky that blond hair would feel when he—

_No!  Bad Harry, very bad._

He groaned, and hit his head on the table in front of him.  After two days, hardly any of the Gryffindors were surprised when he did this.  People had managed to link his new habit to Malfoy— _probably shouldn’t keep muttering his name all the time_ —but the consensus in the school seemed to be that Harry was worried over some Slytherin plot.

Sighing, Harry lifted his head from the table, absently looking across the Hall at the Slytherins.

Mistake.  _Note to self—don’t look at Dra—_ Malfoy _when we have_ anything _with syrup for breakfast.  I should look away.  I will!  I can…_

His thought slipped away as he watched Draco take a bite of pancake, tongue innocently darting out to catch a bit of syrup before it could drip on his robes.

Harry whimpered softly, drawing a concerned look from Hermione.  He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, glad for once for the extra space he had in Dudley’s old clothes.

“All right there, Harry?”

“Fine.”  Harry tried to smile at Ron.  From the look on his friend’s face, he’d failed miserably.

 _At least my voice didn’t crack this time._ He scowled at his untouched breakfast.  So far, he’d managed to convince Ron that the effects of the game were just an irritating constant, but that wouldn’t keep working for long.  Even if Ron didn’t realize that Harry’s reactions went beyond annoyance, Hermione would.  She already looked suspicious, but… 

 _As long as she doesn’t say anything to me or Ron, it’ll be_ fine. 

Besides, he _couldn’t_ tell them.  If they knew that that stupid game had turned Ron’s dare into an obsession, it’d be a disaster. 

 _Hermione would say it’s dangerous—well, yeah, she’d be right.  But she’d probably owl Ron’s_ mom, _like she threatened to do in fifth year,_ _and then Fred and George would get in trouble.  And—_ Harry felt his face pale as a horrible thought occurred to him— _she’d blame_ Ron _for what’s happened to me!  She’d send him a Howler, and I just know she’d say what the dare was.  I can just hear it… “Ronald Weasley, how_ dare _you tell Harry to… to_ snog _Draco Malfoy?  And under a compulsion charm!”  Screamed through the Great Hall, in front of Draco and everyone…_

Harry groaned loudly, letting his head fall back to the table.  He tried to be comforted by the fact that no one asked him what was wrong, then remembered that most of his house just thought he was slowly losing his mind.  _He_ thought he was losing his mind. 

 _Maybe I should write to Fred and George again?  I’m not sure how much of this I can take._  

He raised his head, eyes drawn once more to the Slytherin table.  Draco was swirling a finger through the syrup on his plate.  As Harry watched, the blond boy brought his finger to his lips, licking it delicately and then sucking the tip into his perfect, perfect mouth… 

 _“Oh, bloody hell!”_ Harry leapt to his feet.  He looked around at the sudden silence in the room.  He blushed.  _Didn’t mean to say that out loud._ “I, uh… Ihavetomailaletter,” he muttered, then fled the room. 

*** 

_Dear Fred and George,_

_If you guys don’t tell me how to get this STUPID dare off me, I swear I will NEVER talk to you again.  And you can forget about me endorsing any of your products.  And how could you think making an incomplete dare into a total OBSESSION would be a good idea?  Did you consider, for one second, that your idiot brother would be stupid enough to dare me to SNOG MALFOY?  I’m going crazy here!!!_

_Harry_

*** 

Draco wiped his hand on his napkin, frowning thoughtfully. 

 _This pretty much confirms it.  Potter’s…_ lusting _for me.  Wonder why Weasel and the mudblood haven’t figured it out yet?_

Of course, Potter’s friends didn’t matter in the least.  What _did_ matter was Potter.  Potter lusting for Draco.  And how Draco could use that to his advantage. 

_Obviously, it would do my social standing some good to be seen with the Golden Boy.  Seen as a friend, not a mortal enemy.  Wouldn’t be necessary if Father hadn’t shackled himself to a madman, but there’s nothing I can do about that._

“Draco?  Did you hear me, darling?” 

Draco was jerked back to the present by Pansy’s voice.  _That’s another advantage—dating Potter would get Pansy off me.  Although I’d have to tolerate_ his _insipid friends.  Even trade?  Almost… I think Pansy’s a little worse than those two._

“Sorry.  I was thinking about something.  What did you say?” 

“I _said,_ what do you think is up with Potter lately?  He’s acting weirder than ever.” 

“Mmph.”  Draco tried to return to his thoughts, but Pansy was still nattering away in his ear. 

“I’m starting to think it has something to do with you… I only ever see him acting weird around you.” 

For some reason, the idea that Pansy might figure it out annoyed Draco.  “Did you ever think that you only see him acting weird around me because you only see him when you’re hanging around me?  It’s not like our houses mix, Pansy, dear,” he said, voice dripping with disdain. 

Apparently, she hadn’t noticed his displeasure. 

“You’re right, darling.  I think I may have to start observing Potter a bit more. I can get some of the third-years to keep an eye on him when—” 

“You will do no such thing!”  Draco’s command came out a bit more sharply than he intended.  Carefully, he lowered his voice to the slow, threatening drawl that got absolute obedience from his house.  _“Anything_ relating to Potter goes through _me,_ Pansy.  He’s too popular at the moment for  _any_ sort of move against him.  Is that clear?” 

She was looking at him speculatively.  He narrowed his eyes threateningly. 

Finally, she waved her hand dismissively.  “Whatever.  I suppose I should be concentrating on studying for the NEWTs, anyway.” 

With a last glare in the girl’s direction, Draco settled back to avoiding thinking about why he was feeling protective towards Harry Potter.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Our Story So Far:** After Harry is hit with a magical dare, he finds himself becoming more and more obsessed with Draco Malfoy. What will happen when Draco finds out?

_Dear Harry,_

_We’re working as hard as we can to find the counter-charm.  Our notes are misplaced, but we should find something soon!  Of course, we are busy with the store, but promise every spare minute is spent searching our lab._

_Ron really dared you to snog Malfoy?  That’s brilliant.  Stay strong!_

_F &G_

*** 

_Dear Ron,_

_Harry mentioned that he’s obsessed with completing your little dare.  That could be a problem.  See, the cancellation charm doesn’t actually do anything, because in every test we ran (and tell Hermione that of course we tested the effects of alcohol consumption combined with the charm), an uncompleted dare wore off after an hour.  In fact, the only way the charm would get stronger after that would be if you dared him to do something he wanted to do to begin with.  So there’s nothing we can do, so please stop sending us owls.  And get Harry off our backs!  (We couldn’t tell him what we just told you, for obvious reasons.)_

_F & G_

*** 

Ron stared at the letter from his brothers in horror.  It made sense, it all made sense.  Harry hadn’t been acting… well, like _Harry_ for a few days now, and he’d been getting worse.  Especially since running out of the Great Hall over breakfast yesterday morning.  And now Ron had gotten a letter by emergency owl in the middle of dinner, and Harry had one too… 

 _Oh, Merlin, what does his say?  He’ll want to know what_ mine _says!  I don’t know what to…  Why didn’t he_ tell _me it was getting stronger?_

Harry’s head dropped to the table with a rather loud bang.  Ron resisted the urge to copy him. 

 _Guess I understand what_ that’s _about, finally.  I should tell Hermione, she’s starting to really worry…_

 _Hold up, there’s a thought!  I’ll show Hermione Fred and George’s letter!  She can help, and we’ll make sure Harry doesn’t do… um… anything, and everything will be fine!_  

Happy to have a plan, Ron turned to Hermione.  He was about to ask her to meet him in the library, _alone_  when he felt a light tug on the sleeve of his robe. 

“Ron?” 

Ron tried not to wince at the hesitant voice.  “Yeah, Harry?” 

“I got a letter from your brothers.  Did you?” 

Closing his eyes, Ron braced himself to lie to his best friend.  “Yeah.  They said they’re working on it, and they’ll write when they have a solution.”  Crossing his fingers, he asked a question sure to get Harry to drop the subject.  “Think I should write to my mum?  Y’know, so she can hurry them along, sort of?” 

It worked, just like he’d hoped.  Harry scowled at him, then went back to staring at the table.  After reading his brother’s letter, Ron realized that Harry always stared at the table like that when Malfoy was in the same room.  He suppressed a wince, and turned back to Hermione. 

“Uh, Hermione, I could use some help with my… um… my Transfiguration essay!   Could you come to the library with me after supper?”  He hoped Harry wouldn’t want to come along for help, completely forgetting that he could just say he wanted to be alone with his girlfriend. 

“Of course!  I’d like to go over my essay one more time.  Harry, would you—”  Ron managed to catch Hermione’s eye and vigorously shook his head to stop her from inviting their friend along.  He wasn’t sure whether to be happy or sad that Harry didn’t take any notice whatsoever.  “—ah, would you be all right on your own this evening?”  Hermione finished awkwardly.  

Harry wasn’t paying attention, just muttering to himself.  Ron leaned closer to his friend, trying to hear him.  He flushed bright red when he started making out the words. 

“… stupid soft silky hair… probably smells as good as it looks… Fucking Dra— _Malfoy_ and his sexy lips and ohgoddon’tdothat…”  Harry was looking at the Slytherin table, again.  His face had paled. 

Ron looked over, and saw Malfoy licking a bite of ice cream off a spoon.  _Who_ does _that?_ he wondered briefly, then turned back to Harry.  Harry, who was sweating lightly and seemed unable to look away from Malfoy as he enjoyed his dessert far too much. 

His brothers’ letter fresh in his mind, Ron decided that, unless Hermione had a better idea, he had to keep Harry from acting on the feelings that (no matter _what_ Fred and George thought) couldn’t possible be real.  Especially since Malfoy was almost taunting Harry.  It was like he knew what was going on!  But that was impossible.  The only people who knew were Gryffindors, and all of them were unquestionably friends. 

Harry was moaning again.  He had to do _something_ to distract him, but what…?  Ah! 

Neville was leaning over them, reaching for a pitcher of pumpkin juice.  As the clumsy boy lifted it carefully over their heads, Ron jumped up, managing to knock the pitcher out of Neville’s hands and spilling it over Harry’s head. 

Neville immediately started apologizing.  Harry didn’t seem to notice, just wiped his face with his napkin and ran from the room, looking mortified.  Ron watched him go. 

_Well, that’s one way to keep things under control._

Neville was still apologizing. 

“Neville, shut up.  You were _supposed_ to do that.”  Ignoring the boy’s indignant huff, he turned to Hermione.  “I _really_ need to talk to you, _now._   Come on.” 

Ron grabbed Hermione’s elbow and dragged her after him out of the Great Hall, heading for the most secluded corner of the library and not noticing the blond Slytherin slipping out and heading towards Gryffindor Tower.  

*** 

 _Why the hell did he do that?_  

Harry ran for the Gryffindor dorm, his thoughts for once on something other than Draco.  His robes and hair dripped a trail of pumpkin juice behind him. 

 _I_ know _Ron bumped Neville on purpose._ Everyone _knows to be careful when Neville’s holding liquids!  But… why the_ hell _would he do that?  And, all right, so I am grateful for the distraction, but…_  

The distraction.  It had come at _just_ the right moment, just when he was about to lose control of himself and launch himself at the Slytherin table.  And who would blame him, really?  _Every time_ he’d glanced— _okay, stared obsessively—_ at Draco, he’d been doing something seductive with his mouth.  Licking his fingers, licking the ice cream, sucking on a Sugar Quill—and that in Potions, no less!  It was intolerable!  Indecent, even. 

So Ron making Neville spill the juice on him… 

 _He knows!  He can’t know, he wouldn’t guess and if Hermione had she’d’ve talked to me and not Ron because he’s completely irrational about my Draco and when did I start thinking of him as_ my _Draco oh Merlin I need help!_

He stumbled and leaned heavily against the wall.  _Calm.  Must be calm.  What do I know?  WWHD?  Well, first of all she’d be terribly embarrassed that I think “What Would Hermione Do” at all.  But she’d make a chart, or a list, or something.  So…_

 _I know that Ron made Neville spill the pumpkin juice on me when my Draco was licking his dessert.  I’d like to be his dessert.  I did not just think that._   Harry moaned, sliding down the wall to sit on the floor.  A portrait of a stuffy-looking wizard across the hall sniffed at his undignified position. 

_Right, thinking about Ron now.  I know that he’d come unglued if he thought I really liked my Draco.  I know that he got a letter from Fred and George, but it said what mine said.  Unless he lied to me?  What did I write to them again?_

A familiar panic started to rise in his head.  Harry let his head fall back against the stone wall, wincing when he hit it harder than he’d meant to.  He hadn’t told them about the part where he actually _wanted_ to kiss Draco, had he? 

 _I might have… I wrote it just after he did that completely wicked thing with his finger, and his tongue, and I_ am _glad that I’m not anywhere near him because I don’t know if I could stop myself right now.  If this stupid buzzing would just_ stop, _just for an hour—_

A shadow fell over him, interrupting his thoughts.  He looked up, and found Draco standing over him with an unreadable expression in his eyes. 

*** 

Draco pressed himself into a niche behind a statue.  Harry had suddenly stopped in the corridor, then slid down the wall to sit on the dirty floor. 

 _It would be much easier to follow him,_ he mused, _if he’d make up his mind as to where he was going!_

He couldn’t even bring himself to be annoyed with the other boy.  Harry’d been looking so pained and _lost_ over the last two days, and it had seemed to be getting worse. 

 _I probably haven’t been helping much._ Draco suppressed a twinge of guilt, remembering how he’d teased Harry over the past few days.  _Not even teasing.  I’ve been seducing him, plain and simple, and an innocent little Gryffindor wouldn’t know what to do with that.  Although…_ Harry’s reactions to him _had_ been a bit beyond what he’d expect.  But he couldn’t interpret them as negative. 

Harry was sitting on the floor, still as the statue Draco hid behind, but why?  His robes were still dripping with juice, shouldn’t he be changing or showering or… 

Dammit, picturing naked wet Potter should _not_ make him hard!  So what if the Savior of the Wizarding World happened to have sexy tousled hair and bright green eyes and wondrously kissable lips?  He was The Boy Who Lived to Make Draco’s Life Hard, and the _only_ reason Draco was following him right now was to try and get a little satisfaction— _bad word choice—_ for all the agony of the past six and a half years.  

It wasn’t like he _liked_ Harry, after all.  He certainly didn’t get a tingle of pleasure whenever he managed to provoke a reaction.  And if he did, it was only because his plan was working. 

_What plan?_

Draco pushed away the tiny voice, reminding it once again that the benefits of seducing Harry were the entire point, and far outweighed any negatives.  It’d be nice not being a social pariah outside of the all-too-exclusive “Children of Convicted Death Eaters” club.  Having Harry openly friendly towards him would help.  A lot.  More than he wanted to admit, really.  And given how responsive Harry was to the show Draco had been putting on over the last two days, the physical aspects of the relation- _seduction_ should be quite enjoyable. 

 _Of course, it doesn’t hurt that he’s_ damn _easy on the eyes._

He leaned cautiously around the statue.  Harry was still sitting on the floor, an orange puddle spreading around him, hugging his knees to his chest.  He made a very attractive picture, although it would have been better without the desperate, lost little boy look on his face.  Draco was surprised to find that his first instinct was to sit on the floor and wrap the other boy in his arms, kissing the disconsolate look off his face. 

_It’s just my natural talent for seduction.  It doesn’t mean anything at all!  And it’s far too soon in the game for physical contact._

The thought of physical contact with Harry was making him hard again.  Draco briefly considered finding someone to help relieve the pressure, but Harry’s brilliant green eyes and messy black hair kept floating into his mind. 

 _It’d be a mistake,_ he finally decided.  _If it got back to Harry, it’d set my plan back.  He’ll never fall for me if he thinks I’m just after a casual fling.  And I need him to fall for me._

Draco ducked back behind the statue, hand flying up to cover his mouth.  He _needed_ Harry to fall for him?  _Where the hell did_ that _come from?_

Harry wouldn’t go back to being enemies after a casual fling, unless Draco did something to cause it.  He knew that!  It was one of Harry’s more infuriating traits, that he was nice to almost everyone.  It made it impossible to figure out what he was after. 

A thud brought his attention back to the huddled boy in the corridor.  Harry was rubbing his head, looking utterly despondent.  Suddenly, it didn’t matter that it was too soon or that it might mess up his half-formed plans.  Harry needed someone, or something, and whatever it was, helping him couldn’t hurt Draco’s cause.  

 _Maybe if I just treat him as usual?  Then he’ll have to be strong again.  I don’t want to see him like this anymore!_  

Taking a deep breath, he stepped out from behind the statue and walked over to Harry.  And he was just about to say something insulting—he was!—when he was trapped by two luminous, tear-filled emerald eyes. 

And he was lost.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Our Story So Far:** Draco follows a distraught and slightly crazed Harry, unaware that he’s been dared to snog him! What will happen with the two boys alone in a secluded corridor?

It was a dream.  It had to be.  Clearly, he’d knocked himself out when he’d hit his head on the wall, because there was just no way that Draco was really standing there before him, hair mussed and cheeks turning slightly pink.  And even if Draco really _was_ there, he’d never have such a strange look in his eyes. 

 _Almost like he likes me._  

Therefore, the only logical conclusion was that this was a dream, probably caused by a concussion.  _Hermione would be so proud of how I figured that out._  

Taking his logic a step further, Harry reasoned that in a dream, his actions didn’t count.  So when Draco held out a hand to help him to his feet, Harry took it. 

He didn’t—couldn’t—let it go.  

 _So soft, so warm, and I was right—he_ does _smell good up close._  

He wanted to get closer to Draco, and this was a dream, so that was fine.  Never looking away from grey eyes, afraid of blinking and waking up, Harry swayed closer, breathing in the spicy scent of the other boy’s cologne.  His heartbeat thudded loudly in his ears, drowning out the ever-present buzz but not quite enough to hide a hitch in Draco’s breath. 

“Ha—Potter…” 

Draco’s voice was a low, husky whisper, and the sound of it _caressing_ Harry’s name was more than he could take. 

 _It’s a dream, it’s just a dream…_  

The words ran through his head over and over as Harry shoved Draco firmly against the opposite wall, claiming the soft, sweet lips that had taunted him for days.  And when Draco’s lips parted in surprise, Harry deepened the kiss, thrusting his tongue into his mouth, finally tasting Draco and it was fine because this was just a dream. 

Clearly a good dream, because Draco’s hands were tangling in Harry’s hair, pulling him closer, and Draco was melding against him so they fit tight together, and it felt so good it was almost frightening, but it was a dream so there was no reason to try to stop.  His heart was racing, beating so fast he thought it would burst from his chest, and the buzzing in his head was slowly fading, replaced by the feel of Draco pressed against him. 

_Just a dream…_

*** 

_Well.  This certainly wasn’t what I had in mind._

Dozens of possible reactions raced through Draco’s head when Harry shoved him against the wall, only to vanish the next moment as their lips met.  It was electric.  And when Harry’s tongue slipped into his mouth, he was swept up in the tastes and scents and sensations of the other boy, and all Draco could do was try to press just a little bit closer. 

Chocolate from dessert lingered in Harry’s mouth, overwhelmingly sweet and dark.  Draco buried his hands in dark hair; so much softer— _and wet, why is it?  Oh, right.  Longbottom.—_ than he’d have guessed, and pulled Harry towards him, trying to capture more of the rich flavor that blended into the clean, fresh taste of pure Harry. 

Harry's hands were trailing down his sides and he shouldn’t feel them so clearly through his robes, but that didn’t matter because they were settling on his hips and pulling him closer to Harry.  And it didn’t matter that he was kissing Harry in a corridor that anyone could come through at any moment, because he was _kissing Harry_ and really, who knew Harry could kiss so well? 

Draco thrust his hips slightly towards the other boy, anxiously seeking friction and making the most un-Malfoyish whimpers deep in his throat.  Harry moaned and broke away from their kiss, his head falling on Draco’s shoulder as they rocked their hips together, mindless of their surroundings. 

Until the shriek. 

*** 

Hermione stormed through the halls.  She’d just finished giving Ron an ear-blistering lecture—the same one she’d give Harry just as soon as his problem was solved—on the perils of not coming to her for help _immediately._  

_Really, those boys…_

Although, to be fair, it wasn’t Ron’s fault that Harry had hidden how bad it had gotten.  And it wasn’t Ron’s fault that Harry was so deep in denial of his feelings for Malfoy— _how he can like that loathsome little… Even if he_ is _incredibly handsome, his personality… Oh, really!  Boys!—_ that he was causing the compulsion charm the twins invented to go haywire.  It wasn’t Harry’s fault, either, and even if it were he was more than paying for it.  And of course she’d help them, now that she had all the information.  

 _But if they’d just come to me in the_ first _place, I’d probably have fixed it by now!  At the very least, I’d be two days further along in researching a cure!_  

So, really, it was their fault after all.  And she had every right to be annoyed. 

She was thinking about where Harry could have run off to when she rounded a corner and found him.  Pushing Malfoy against a wall.  And definitely _not_ fighting. 

She shrieked.  Then regretted it, because it revealed her presence and made Malfoy shove Harry away.  Only, Harry didn’t seem to be cooperating.  And blushes really didn’t suit Malfoy.  Sighing, Hermione approached the two boys, and tugged Harry gently. 

He turned to her, green eyes clouded with confusion and— _nope, not thinking about Harry being aroused with Malfoy.  Not at all._  

“Mione?  What are you in my dream for?  Ron’s the one who dreams about you…”  

Harry’s voice trailed off, leaving her blushing and Malfoy looking irritated.  Before she could answer, Malfoy broke in. 

“A dream?  You think this is a dream?” 

“It has to be.  I can’t kiss you if it’s not a dream.”  Harry sounded heartbreakingly earnest. 

Malfoy’s grey eyes narrowed.  Hermione shot him a quick glare and his mouth snapped shut.  

“Harry, you’re not dreaming.” 

His eyes widened.  In a small, frightened voice he whispered, “I’m not?” 

Silently, she shook her head.  He turned desperate eyes on Malfoy, of all people, for confirmation.  For once in his life, Malfoy acted decently and just shook his head. 

For a long moment, all three stood frozen.  Then Harry took a step back, and another, his eyes wide and panicked.  Then he turned and fled.  Sending one last glare at Malfoy, Hermione followed. 

*** 

Harry ran blindly for the Gryffindor dorms, gasping out the password and almost slamming into the painting in his haste.  Ignoring the startled faces around him, he dashed up the stairs to his dorm and dove under Neville’s bed. 

 _There!  Now no one will find me!_   A slightly hysterical giggle escaped him before he clapped his hand over his mouth.  _Must stay silent.  Can’t let them find me… Who’s them?  Doesn’t matter, just have to hide…_

For the first time, Harry noticed that his head was silent, his thoughts clear, and his skin wasn’t crawling.  He could still taste Draco on his lips, his tongue… His body still tingled from pressing against the boy who’d been the focus of his fantasies for— _okay, admit it.  Far longer than I’ve been dealing with that dare.  He didn’t exactly try to stop me, though…  Mm.  Active participant, I think.  ‘S good._  

And he was _tired._   The past few days had been exhausting, and he hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep since the whole thing started.  In fact… he was safe, hidden, and warm.  A quick drying spell and his school robe made a decent pillow, and he curled up happily to dream of Draco— _without_ Hermione interrupting them. 

*** 

Neville Longbottom was having a very odd evening.  First, Ron deliberately made him spill pumpkin juice all over Harry, and Harry ran out of the Great Hall, completely forgetting that he could use magic to clean his robes.  Of course, that could have something to do with that night they’d all gotten drunk.  _Wish I could remember what had happened._   

Then, he’d run into Seamus and Dean on his way back to the common room.  Well, that wasn’t so strange.  _Them being half-naked behind the statue of Wendolyn Harpyhunter was, though.  That and them inviting me to join them._   He didn’t really care that they were… whatever together, but he just wasn’t into that.  

So he’d gone and hidden in his bed, pulling the curtains closed and working on his Charms homework.  And that’s when the third odd thing happened.  Harry came racing into the dorm, and dove under his bed!  His!  _As if he doesn’t have his own bed to hide under…  Maybe I just imagined it._  

He leaned carefully over and peered under his bed.  Yup, Harry was there, curled up and fast asleep with a peaceful look on his face.  Made for a nice change from the increasingly distressed boy of the past few days. 

 _And he hasn’t really been sleeping well lately._ Neville sighed.  _Oh, well.  So long as Harry’s happy, I guess he’s safe enough there._

Arranging his blankets to hide the sleeping boy a little better, just in case someone came in, Neville turned back to his book and lost himself in the intricate wand movements for tomorrow’s test.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Our Story So Far:** Harry’s finally fulfilled his dare, but ran away when he realized it was real. Is there any hope for our hapless hero?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’d fully intended this to be a short one-shot. Then it grew.

A whirlwind raged through Hogwarts that night. 

Hermione searched frantically for Harry, determined to help him through this latest crisis (and really, what could be a bigger crisis than Harry _liking_ Malfoy?). 

Ron eventually dragged himself out of the library to find Hermione and insist she help him with the Harry situation.  He was extremely disturbed to hear that Harry had finally given in to the insanity, but that meant he wouldn’t be thinking about Malfoy anymore, right?  (“Really, Ron.  It wouldn’t have gotten so bad if he didn’t like Malfoy.  _Try_ to keep up!”) 

Draco stalked to the dungeons feeling supremely irritated.  His plan wasn’t turning out the way he’d thought it should.  He wasn’t supposed to _care_ about Harry!  And he’d been enjoying that kiss.  Of course Granger had to come and interrupt it.  And Harry had only kissed him because he’d thought it was a dream!  And then the idiot didn’t have the decency to stick around and finish what he’d started when he realized it wasn’t.  ( _Stupid Gryffindor.  Thought they were all about bravery._ )  And to top it all off, the very worst of all: he had to have the image of the Weasel dreaming about Granger in his head.  This day was an unmitigated disaster! 

Pansy noticed that poor Draco was upset when he stormed through the Slytherin common room.  Ignoring Blaise (“You _know_ better than that, Pans.  Didn’t you see his face?  _Stay away!”_ ), she followed him up to the seventh year boys’ dorm to comfort him.  It’s what best friends do, right? 

Blaise sighed, and waited a few minutes before following Pansy.  He managed to retrieve her (petrified, bound, and gagged; with bright green skin and silver feathers for hair) without attracting Draco’s attention, and cast the strongest locking spell he knew on the way out.  Apparently the seventh year boys would be sleeping in the common room.  Again. 

Professor Snape felt a disturbance in the wards around the Slytherin dorms.  He recognized Draco’s magical signature, weighed his options, and decided to ignore it.  _Everyone_ knew better than to disturb Draco when he was this irritated, and whoever had forgotten wasn’t worth leaving his tea for.  Hopefully Potter had stumbled into the dungeons, and was getting what he deserved. 

Harry slept beneath Neville’s bed, peaceful and oblivious to the turmoil around him while visions of pale blond hair and sparkling grey eyes danced in his head.  

Above him, Neville sat awake, wishing he remembered how to cast a silencing spell and listening to Harry moaning and murmuring Draco’s name all through the night. 

*** 

It was nice, living in the dungeons.  The sun never shone into the room in the early morning, birds never sat on the windowsills singing at dawn.  There was absolutely nothing to awaken the inhabitants of the dungeons before they were ready.  Of course, that assumed they hadn’t been up all night, unable to sleep due to the completely incomprehensible actions of the Boy Who Bloody Lived to Irritate Everyone, with his bright green eyes and soft, sweet lips and— 

_No!  I’m not going to keep thinking about him!  I’m not going to think about kissing Harry, or holding Harry, or licking Harry, or the way Harry would moan if I sucked him, and I’m especially not going to think about how he’d only let me if he thought he was dreaming!_

The dorm was too confining.  And he’d already blasted all his dorm mates’ beds to pieces, and he really didn’t want to be there when they found out.  Granted, a quick _Repairo_ would set it to rights, but still.  He needed room to pace, and more things to destroy, and he wasn’t going to find any of that here.  Slamming the door open, he almost tripped over Goyle who had—for whatever idiotic reason—decided to sleep across the threshold.

_It’s just… it’s insulting, that’s what it is.  Golden boy’s too good to touch the slimy snake, although apparently there’s no ban on fantasizing about me.  Damn it all, the bloody war’s over!  We might not have been_ friendly, _but we weren’t enemies anymore.  And he obviously likes me enough to at least_ dream _of kissing me._  

Draco stomped up the stairs, still furious.  No matter how he looked at it, something didn’t add up.  Harry’s— _Potter’s_ behavior had changed too quickly, and too drastically, to be natural. 

_Which means there must be magic involved.  The only question is why I didn’t suspect something from the moment I noticed the change!  It’s not like I’m a mudbl—muggleborn.  Merlin, I hate political correctness._

_Why_ didn’t _I realize something was wrong?_ No one _knows Harry better than I do!  And all right, that’s weird.  Who would cast a love spell, or lust spell, on Harry that targets_ me? _Anyone with that ability, who_ doesn’t _mean him harm, would be trying to get him for themselves.  Maybe Longbottom misfired?  No, he doesn’t swing that way.  I’d have heard if he did.  Besides, a misfire of_ that _sort of spell would make Harry act.  Actually, it’d make him act the way he’s been acting towards me._

He snarled at some early-rising third year walking through the corridors, the frightened look giving him a brief moment of pleasure before he retreated into his own thoughts. 

_I don’t want him to want me because of a spell._

The realization was sudden and shocking, and completely explained his _own_ reactions to Harry’s rather confusing behavior. 

_Merlin, Mordred, and Morgan le Fay… I think I’m in love with him!_  

*** 

Harry woke slowly, stretching his arms out and reveling in the silence in his head.  He lay there for several minutes, eyes closed, trying to figure out where he was and why it was so dark.  _That’s right; I hid under Neville’s bed.  Embarrassing.  At least no one knows._

His head felt like it was filled with wool, thick and fuzzy, and he could only remember bits and pieces of the last few days.  The only thing he could see clearly was that one heavenly moment when he’d been kissing Draco, and nothing else in the world had existed. 

_Stupid Hermione.  Why’d she have to go and show up and ruin everything?  If she hadn’t shown up just then…_

_Huh.  What would have happened, if she hadn’t shown up?_

After all, he’d only been acting like that because of the spell _(okay, maybe a bit because Draco’s gorgeous, and hasn’t acted like a stuck up spoiled brat since the war ended)_ , but Draco had kissed him back.  Kissed him back like he’d wanted it just as badly as Harry did.  _Wonder why?_

He turned his attention inward, focusing on clearing his mind— _good thing Snape finally decided to teach me Occlumency properly—_ and letting the unimportant details drift away. 

He was left with three facts, startling in their clarity. 

First, he had completed his dare.  Rather spectacularly, too, until Hermione had come along. 

Second, he still wanted to kiss Draco.  

Third… Draco had looked at him with real compassion, right before he’d shoved him up against that wall.  And he had looked—well, _hurt_ when Harry had mistaken what was happening for a perfect, perfect dream. 

_Only one conclusion, I guess… I like Draco, maybe more than that, and he cares for me, and I may have screwed things up before even starting._

There was really only one thing to do now.  It was dangerous, terrifying, and possibly stupid.  Pulling together all of his Gryffindor courage, Harry crawled out from under the bed.  He brushed off his robes (although there wasn’t any real need—the house elves would _never_ let dust accumulate in the castle), ran a brush over his hair (which didn’t do any good whatsoever), and walked out of the room. 

He had to go face the Dragon. 

*** 

“Neville?” 

“Yeah, Dean?” 

“Did Harry just crawl out from under your bed?” 

“Yup.” 

“Was he there all night?” 

“Yup.” 

 “Say, me and Seamus were wondering if you’d maybe like to join us toni—” 

_“No.”_  

“Right.” 

*** 

Harry didn’t have any trouble finding Draco. The Marauder’s Map led him to the Astronomy Tower.  Draco stood at the top; a glowing silhouette against the pre-dawn light. 

Harry couldn’t stop his smile at the sight.  _Really, could he be any more posed?_ It was almost a shame to ruin the picture he’d created, but… 

“Draco?”  Harry’s voice was soft, almost frightened. 

Draco’s shoulders stiffened, drawing him up to his regular perfect posture.  He gave no other sign that he was aware of Harry’s presence. 

_Right.  He has no way of knowing what’s been happening, and I_ ran away _from our last—our only kiss.  More than kiss.  Whatever.  He’s proud, I have to work_ with _that if I want anything good to come out of this._

He let his mind wander back to how he’d felt when he kissed Draco: safe, and warm, with a good deal of teen lust thrown in.  _Yes, definitely want something good out of this._

“I know you’re angry with me, but I’d like just two minutes to explain?  I know it’s a lot to ask, but… I _want_ to explain to you, and you deserve to know… Please?”  He waited for a response, sighing when Draco kept his back stubbornly turned.  “All right.  Just… let me know if you want me to leave, and I will.”  He took a deep breath.  “Here goes. 

“I guess I should start by telling you that that kiss yesterday?  Was bloody perfect.  And amazing, and… I don’t have words, you know?  And, yeah, I was a bit messed in the head, but I’m all better today and it was still the most amazing feeling… 

“I didn’t realize it until this morning, but I’ve been thinking about you, and dreaming about you, for a while now.  Longer than my, um, funny behavior.  I mean, you’ve always been” _beautiful_ “attractive, but since Voldemort died and all, you’ve been… nicer?  Sort of.  Still snarky as hell, but it hasn’t felt as mean… It’s like, you’re not trying to hurt me anymore, and I’ve _noticed._   Actually, you’re pretty funny most of the time.  Or maybe I can just appreciate it now.  I just… 

“I wasn’t allowed to think of you as anything other than an enemy for six years!  It’s a hard habit to break.  And I’m sorry for that, so sorry you wouldn’t believe it.  The worst part of it is that it took a stupid fucking _game_ to get me to see what I want, to see _you,_ and that just screwed everything up.  Not that I think any of this is a game!  I swear, I don’t see you as a game, or dare, or… I’m just trying to say, I’m serious about this, even though I didn’t really get that until this morning. 

“When we were firsties, I found this mirror over the Christmas holidays.  It showed your heart’s desire.  I saw my parents standing with me.  I must’ve spent hours staring at it…  I think that, if I found it today, you’d be there too, and—” 

“Potter?” 

“Yes, Dra—Malf— _Draco?”_  

“You talk too much.” 

“Oh.”  Harry’s heart sank, his shoulders slumping.  _I tried… and it’s not like anything’s really different… Just a broken heart, nothing serious._ “I’ll just, I’ll leave you be then.” 

He turned to climb down the ladder, and find somewhere to hole up and cry.  He was halfway there when Draco’s voice stopped him in his tracks. 

“Just say you love me, idiot.  Less words, kissing sooner, where’s the bad?”  Harry turned back to Draco, not quite believing what he was hearing.  Draco had crossed the tower.  He was smirking.  “And I love you too.” 

*** 

Draco and Harry missed breakfast that day.  It being a Saturday, nobody really noticed until lunch, and even then only a few people put the facts together. 

Hermione, of course, arrived at the correct conclusion almost immediately.  It rather put her off her lunch—not because Harry and Malfoy were both boys, but because they were Harry and _Malfoy._   Ron agreed, but told her to keep it to herself, because didn’t Harry deserve some happiness? 

Snape saw the dual absence as evidence that his hopes of the previous evening had come to fruition, and Draco was merely avoiding notice when Potter’s condition came to light. 

And Neville, trying to avoid the corridor where he’d seen Dean and Seamus last night, stumbled across two very involved, very _naked_ young men in the secret passage between the Great Hall and Gryffindor Tower. 

**The End**


End file.
